


Departed

by RedQ



Series: Crashing [4]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Barry's Funeral, Cancer, Dead!Barry, Death Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7316224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedQ/pseuds/RedQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prospect of planning a funeral for Barry right now just seemed like too much for them all to bear at the moment. They all looked mournfully at the empty bed. Seeing it stripped bare and void of sheets was heartbreaking for them. Just yesterday, Barry had been living and breathing, lying in that bed. </p><p>And now it was empty.</p><p>(Crashing Alternate Ending)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Departed

"They're still looking for a cure, Barry," Joe told him, "There's still hope yet."

Barry just shook his head.

"I can't wait any longer, Joe. I just want this to be over with," he said past his tears, "I just want to know that I have your blessing first."

"Of course, Bar," Joe choked, "Whatever you need. If you're ready to let go…it's okay. You—"

Joe let out a few sobs before continuing, "You can let go now, Barry."

"Thank you," Barry cried, his voice filled with gratitude, as if this was the permission he had been waiting for all along, "Thank you, Joe. I love you."

Joe leaned forward and kissed Barry's forehead, sniffling as he tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. When he pulled back again, Barry's eyes were closed, his face tearstained but peaceful.

"I love you too, Barry," he whispered.

A moment later, the monitor beeped loudly, and through his blurry vision, Joe could see the familiar straight line glaring back at him from the screen.

…..

"We can save him, Iris," Henry told her, smiling at her, "We may have just found a cure."

Iris stood there in shock, hardly allowing herself to feel the hope he was giving her. A smile was just starting to form on her lips when they heard the beeping. They all looked at the screen in the cortex to see that Barry's heart was no longer beating.

"No," Iris breathed, looking at the straight line on the computer screen. She suddenly found herself to be moving, her legs carrying her towards Barry's room as fast as she could. Her mind felt detached, like her body was moving along without her while she tried to catch up. She was the first to reach Barry's room.

Caitlin entered the room just after her to find that Iris was already shouting and fighting with her father.

"Get out of the way, dad!" she yelled.

"Iris, I'm sorry," Joe said, crying uncontrollably. He stood between her and Barry, stopping her from going to him by holding onto her arms. Iris was struggling to free her wrists from her father's grasp. She had to get to Barry before it was too late.

Caitlin stood there watching the scene in front of her in shock. Henry and Cisco came to stand next to her near the door. All of their eyes looked between the fight between father and daughter and Barry lying in the bed behind them.

"We can still save him!" Iris screamed at her father, "It's not too late! We can save Barry!"

Joe sobbed as he held onto her tightly.

"We can't, Iris. It's not what Barry wants," he cried, "We have to let him go."

"Dad, please!" Iris shouted, now practically hitting him to try to get to Barry. She could see Barry lying there lifelessly in the bed with his eyes closed. It wasn't too late. If they did CPR now, they could save him. She looked around at the others.

"What's wrong with all of you?!" she yelled at them, "Why are you all just standing there?! Save him!"

They all looked brokenly at her, not moving.

"Iris," Caitlin said gently, "It's not what Barry wants. We told him that we wouldn't interfere if he coded again."

"But we can save him!" she cried, "You found a cure! We can save him!"

Upon hearing this, Joe loosened his hold in shock. It was just enough for Iris to land a sharp elbow to his gut and finally break free from her father's hold. She scrambled over to Barry, placing her hands on the center of his bare chest and pushing down on it with all her might.

Doing the compressions was harder than she thought it would be. She didn't know how Henry had managed to do it for so long last time. It was exhausting. Her adrenaline spurred her though, and she pressed down on Barry's chest with fervor.

"Help me!" she cried to the others, "Please! Help! It's too soon! I'm not ready! I can't lose him! Please!"

She stared at Barry's face in a panic as she pushed against his chest. His face became blurred when her eyes filled up with tears. It was like Barry was fading away from her.

"Why are you all just standing there?!" she cried, "Why aren't you people moving?!"

"Please, Iris," Henry said, "It's time to let go."

"No!" she yelled, "We can cure him now! I'm not giving up on him! Shame on all of you! Shame on you for quitting him!"

Caitlin started to cry, the tears of happiness that she had shed a few minutes ago now turning sour. She didn't know what to do. They had possibly just found a way to treat Barry, but it was too late. He was too weak. To bring him back now, when he was so ready to leave them, it would just be cruel.

But at the same time, what if they could save him…?

Joe didn't move to pull Iris off of Barry. He watched painfully as his daughter tried desperately to save him.

"Iris…" he said, touching her shoulder.

"No, dad! I'm not giving up on him!" she shouted, her breath hitching repeatedly as she did compressions.

They all cried as they watched her futilely try to save Barry. She pressed her mouth to his cold lips and forced air into his lungs.

"Come on, Barry," she cried, pressing down onto his chest again with her tiny hands, "Please. Please don't leave me."

Her father's hand was still resting on her shoulder, but he didn't try to pull her off of Barry.

"Iris, he's gone," Joe said quietly to her.

"No! He's n-not dead!" she yelled, "We c-can save him."

They didn't know how long they stood there, watching Iris try to save Barry. At some point, Caitlin stepped forward and turned off the heart monitor so they wouldn't have to hear it. It seemed to mock them, beeping with each compression Iris did, giving the illusion that Barry's heart was still beating. But it wasn't. Barry was gone.

Iris tried to ignore how cold Barry's skin had become, as if refusing to acknowledge it would somehow make it not true. The muscles in her arms felt like they were tearing apart from the effort of the compressions.

"We can save him. We can save him," she kept muttering under her breath.

"Iris," Joe said, sliding his hand down his daughter's arm to grab her wrist, "It's over. He's gone. You need to stop now."

With a sinking feeling of defeat, Iris finally stopped resisting her father's gentle pull at her wrists. Her hands gradually stopped moving, the compressions becoming halfhearted and weak. She eventually stopped giving compressions entirely, and her hands slowly and shakily pulled away from Barry's chest. She turned towards her father.

"Dad," she cried, burying her face in his shoulder. Joe placed a hand on the back of her head to sooth her as he looked at Barry. Barry's face was still peaceful, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted from the rescue breaths Iris had tried to give him. He almost looked as if he could be sleeping. Almost. Joe couldn't stop the tears from flowing freely as he stared at Barry's face. He would never see Barry smile again, never hear his laugh or listen to one of his science rants that Joe didn't understand. Barry would never talk to him again. He would never ask him for advice or joke around with him. He was just gone.

Iris pulled away from her father to look at Barry again, as if she expected to turn around to find that he had somehow woken up, but he was still there, lying completely still, not breathing. Iris placed her hands on both sides of Barry's face, flinching when she felt how icy cold his hollow cheeks were already. The tears that Barry had shed moments ago had now dried on his skin.

"I'm s-so sorry, Barry," she sobbed, her face inches from his. One of her tears landed on his cheek. "I wasn't here. I didn't get here fast enough. I'm so s-sorry."

She lightly caressed his face, gently brushing her thumbs over his eyelids and then his lips. She ran one hand over his bare scalp, wishing she could have ran her fingers through his hair one last time. It all didn't feel real. Even with Barry lying dead right there in front of her, Iris still felt like it wasn't really happening. It was just another nightmare, the same one she had been having for weeks. She would wake up from it soon, and Barry would still be alive. He would still be fighting.

Henry couldn't stand any longer. He had to sit down in a chair on the other side of the room. He wasn't ready to go near his son just yet. He didn't think his heart could bare it. It felt as if his heart had already been torn out of his chest, and the world seemed to be pressing in on him, suffocating him from all sides. He thought back to the day Barry was born, holding him in his arms for the first time. He didn't know something so small could have such a strong, instantaneous effect on him. He didn't know it was possible to love another person so much until the day his baby boy had come into the world. And now his son was dead.

Cisco felt like he was going to be sick. Suddenly the room didn't have enough air, and he felt like he was going to pass out or throw up or both. They had been preparing for this. They had had quite a bit of time to mentally prepare, but Cisco soon found that no amount of time was enough to prepare him for the death of his best friend. Even with all that time, it felt like it was too sudden, like Barry had been ripped away from them way too soon.

"I need some air," he said quietly before stepping out of the room.

Caitlin sniffed and wiped away her tears. She tried to collect her emotions. She was the doctor here. Sure, Henry was also a doctor, but his son had just died. In this scenario, he was a father first. Caitlin knew that post mortem care had to be done for Barry, and it would be her responsibility to do it. She couldn't fall to pieces just yet. She would do that later, when no one could see her.

"Iris," Joe said in a shaky voice, "Iris, come with me."

He tried to gently pull her away from the bed, but Iris wouldn't move. She was still resting a hand on Barry's cheek, the other one holding his cold, stiff hand.

"Iris," Caitlin said, trying to keep her voice steady, "I have to do a few things for him. I'll need you all to leave the room."

"Just…just wait," Iris said, her breath hitching, "G-give me another s-second."

"Iris, that's not Barry anymore," her father said gently, "It's not him."

Iris's face screwed up as she tried to contain the wail of agony threatening to escape her. She started to sob, bending forward to cry into Barry's shoulder. Even in death, she craved his touch, his comfort.

"Come on, Iris," her father said gently. Iris could barely see past her tears as her father led her from the room.

Henry insisted on staying to help Caitlin provide care for his son. She was grateful for the company. Although she knew there was nothing to fear from a body, she couldn't help but take note of the heavy, chilling air of death that seemed to have crept its way into the room.

Together, they removed all of the wires, tubing, and IVs from Barry. They washed him from head to toe and dressed him in fresh clothes. Even though he could no longer feel their touch, they were gentle with him, gentle in all of their movements as if he could still feel everything they were doing. Neither of them cried, both understanding all too well how to put on a calm doctor face in a situation like this. Inside though, they were both feeling the overwhelming pain of loss. They both were shuddering internally as they felt how cold and stiff Barry was already. The person in the bed was beginning to seem less and less like Barry Allen and more like a body to them. The minute his heart had stopped beating, he had stopped being Barry.

When the others returned into the room, Barry was much more cleaned up and presentable. They had dressed him in a nice, button down shirt and positioned him in a way that made him look like he was simply sleeping, his hands resting on his stomach with the sheets pulled up to his waist. It was somewhat strange to see him this way, free of all of the wires and tubing that were all normally attached to him. Over the last several weeks, they had grown so accustomed to seeing him with oxygen tubing covering his face and wires snaking from his chest that to see him like this was somewhat comforting to them. This was how Barry should be. No wires. No IVs. Just Barry.

They all sat in the room with him for hours, most of the time not uttering a single word. The only sounds that penetrated the room were the occasional sobs and sniffling sounds of mourning.

"We let this happen," Iris said quietly. She looked up angrily at all of them, "We let him die."

"Iris," Joe said sadly, "Don't…"

"We could have saved him," she cried, "We could have cured him."

"Iris, we don't know that," Henry told her, "We maybe could have saved him and forced him to go through more weeks of treatment, but it could have been for nothing. We didn't know anything for sure. I wasn't about to put Barry through all of that."

"But what if he had _lived_?" Iris asked tearfully, "What if your treatments had worked?"

"Iris," Joe said, "Barry was ready for this. He told me. He didn't want to keep trying. He didn't want to go through any more treatments. He was ready."

"Well, I wasn't," Iris said bitterly, "I wasn't ready, dad. I wasn't ready to let him go."

"That doesn't change the fact that Barry was ready to leave us," Caitlin said quietly, staring at Barry's face, "At least he's not in pain anymore."

Iris couldn't believe this. She couldn't believe how okay everyone else was with all of this. It wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Barry was supposed to get better. He was supposed to _live_. Barry had always before found a way to make it through everything okay. He had his close calls before, but he had always pulled through somehow. Why would this time be any different? He wasn't supposed to die. He was supposed to make it through this like he always did. Barry Allen was supposed to live.


	2. Buried

"I'm going to cover him up now," Caitlin said quietly, breaking the silence of the room. When no one protested she moved forward to pull the sheet up over Barry.

"Wait," Iris said in a small voice. She stood up from her chair and walked over to Barry's bed.

"Goodbye, Barry," she whispered, barely able to get the sound out. She knelt down and pressed her lips to his cold cheek, another tear sliding down her face. She pulled back from him and turned to Caitlin and nodded. Caitlin pulled the dreaded white sheet up to cover Barry's face. To everyone in the room, it felt like that was it. That was the final goodbye. Barry was really gone.

"I suppose we should go home now," Joe said solemnly, "It's over."

No one said anything. The idea sounded so ludicrous. How were they supposed to just go home and call it a day? Barry had just died, and they were supposed to just go home now? Well, that's that. Nice try everyone, but it's over now. We lost. You can all go home now?

"I'm not ready yet, dad," Iris said, staring at the white sheet that now covered Barry. She felt a sudden irrational urge to rip it off of him. There was something so final about it covering him now.

"Iris, there's nothing more for us here. There's nothing we can do now. It's time to leave," he said flatly.

"Dad, we should still—"

"Iris," Joe said seriously, his eyes bloodshot from crying, "I need to go home. I need to leave. I can't stay here."

Iris nodded in understanding. Now that it was over, it made Joe sick just being in the same room where Barry had spent so many weeks going through all of this ugliness up until his final moments. He had suffered so much in this room, waited for this moment for so long. Now the room only held pain for all of them. The heavy feeling of death seemed almost palpable in the air around them, and it was suffocating. They had to leave.

Joe and Iris hugged everyone goodbye before they left.

"Thank you for everything you've done for him, Caitlin," Joe whispered to the young doctor when they pulled apart from their hug. Caitlin only nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak right now. She knew if she opened her mouth a sob would escape her. She didn't deserve Joe's gratitude. She hadn't done anything for Barry. She hadn't saved him. She failed. She had failed him, and now because of that, Barry was dead.

When Iris and Joe made it home and walked into the house, they both felt the same sinking feeling. They had both been hoping for a day when Barry would be better and they could finally take him home and he would be walking through that front door with them, but now that hope was shattered. Barry hadn't been home for a while, and he would never be coming home again. Joe sat down on the couch and ran his hands over his face.

"I'm going to go to bed," Iris said quietly to him. Joe nodded sadly, and she knelt down to hug him tightly before turning and heading for the stairs.

Once upstairs, however, Iris didn't go to her bedroom. Instead she went to Barry's room. She turned the light on and closed the door behind her. She stood there. For the longest time, all she could do was just stand there, looking around Barry's bedroom. The room felt so empty now, knowing that Barry would never occupy it again. A thin layer of dust covered all the surfaces in the room, showing just how long it had been that Barry had been staying at STAR Labs and not at home where he really belonged.

A painful lump in her throat, Iris walked slowly over to his closet. The clothes in there still smelled like Barry, and it made her want to cry. Her tears were all dried up though, so instead of crying she put the clothes on, pulling on a pair of Barry's sweatpants and one of his t-shirts. Without pause, she walked over to his bed and crawled under the sheets, curling up into a ball as she buried her face in Barry's pillow, which also smelled like him. It was in this same place, with the lights still on, that Joe found her later when he went to check on her. He, himself, sat on the couch all night, never closing his eyes.

…..

When Iris woke up the next day, it took her a moment to remember where she was and why she was in Barry's bed. When the memory of the night before came back to her it washed over her as a fresh wave of grief. It was like losing Barry all over again. Barry had died last night. He was gone. She felt sick as she crawled out of Barry's bed. When she got dressed and headed downstairs she found her father in the kitchen, sitting at the table staring at his hands. They didn't say much to each other. They silently agreed that there was another place they both needed to be right now, and without saying much, they both got in the car to head for STAR Labs, not really even understanding why they were going there. There wasn't anything there for them now.

"Where is he?" Joe asked when he walked into the med bay to find that the medical bed Barry had occupied was now empty. The sheets were stripped from the bed, and it was now just a bare mattress.

"We had to move him," Caitlin said quietly to him, "He's downstairs now."

Henry sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. He had helped them move the body, and that had somehow been even harder for him than doing post mortem care on his own son.

"We'll need to set a date for the funeral," he said quietly to them.

No one said anything. The prospect of planning a funeral for Barry right now just seemed like too much for them all to bear at the moment. They all looked mournfully at the empty bed. Seeing it, stripped bare and void of sheets, was heartbreaking for them. Just yesterday, Barry had been living and breathing, lying in that bed. And now it was empty.

…..

"David," Joe choked over the phone, "It's Joe."

"Joe," Singh said sadly, "How's…How's everything going?"

"He passed away last night," Joe said in barely more than a whisper.

"Joe…I…I'm so sorry," the captain said in a small voice.

"I wanted to come tell you in person," Joe said, "It's just…the thought of being there…"

"I understand, Joe," Singh said respectfully. He sighed, "Did you want me to tell everyone here, or did you want to tell them the news yourself?"

"No," Joe said, "No, I don't want…You can tell them, if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course," the captain said sympathetically, "I'll let everyone know."

Joe took a deep breath before saying, "I'll try to come clean out his lab when I can. I just can't do it now. It's too soon."

"Don't worry about that, Joe," Singh said understandingly, "I can always have someone else do that for you if you want. I'm sure Belfort wouldn't mind."

"No," Joe said sadly, "I can't ask Carl to do that. Besides, I think it's something that I need to do myself."

"Okay," Singh said quietly.

"The…the funeral is on Friday," Joe told him, "Four o'clock. Everyone is welcome to come."

"I'll be there," the captain replied, "and I'm sure everyone else will be too. We all loved Barry."

Joe sniffed and tried to hold back a sob at the mention of Barry's name.

"Th-thank you, David," he choked.

…..

The few days that transpired between Barry's passing and his funeral went by in a blur for all of them. No one went to STAR Labs after that. They all stayed home. Henry had his own apartment in Central City now, and he hadn't really left it or said much to any of the rest of them since Barry's death. Cisco and Caitlin supported each other and kept each other company as they both grieved in their own ways, and Joe and Iris always had each other, but Henry had no one. He was alone now.

His son had been everything to him. Barry was the only thing he had left, and now that he was dead, Henry didn't know what to do. He didn't see the point in anything now. He felt like he had nothing left to live for. Henry hardly ate or slept in those first few days after Barry's death. He mostly just sat on his couch in his small apartment, staring numbly at the wall. Where was he supposed to go from here?

The day of Barry's funeral came way too fast. They all dressed in their black funeral clothes. Iris wore the same dress she had worn to Eddie's funeral, Caitlin the same one as Ronnie's. As horrible as both of those days had been for the two women, this day seemed somehow indescribably worse. For someone who had always thought he didn't have very many friends, Barry had quite a few people show up to his funeral.

Nearly everyone from the precinct showed up to the service. As the beloved baby of the CCPD, Barry's passing was devastating to the entire department. Most of them had known Barry since he was a kid and had watched him grow up, and they felt his loss right there alongside the West family as they grieved.

Team Arrow had also made the trip over to Central City to pay their respects. Felicity tried her best to hold it together, but from the moment they got there, a constant stream of tears flowed down her face. She had been crying for days, ever since Caitlin had called her and told her the news.

Oliver stood there, stone faced and numb during the service. He had lost people before, and his go-to strategy for coping was usually to numb himself. He didn't want the others to see how hard this was hitting him. Barry had always just seemed so…innocent, so gentle. He was too good of a person for something like this to happen to, and far too young. Oliver was feeling more than just sadness. He was feeling intense anger from the whole thing. The unfairness and the absurdity of the situation was eating at him. Cancer. Of all things, cancer.

Oliver didn't have powers. That was Barry. Barry was the metahuman. He was the _Flash_ for crying out loud! He was supposed to be the invincible one, and to have him taken by something as stupid and simple as cancer was just ludicrous to Oliver. There was no honor in it. No valor. Barry at the very least deserved a hero's death. He deserved to be remembered as more than just that poor, young CSI kid who got sick and eventually lost his will to keep fighting. He deserved more than the world's sympathy and pity. He deserved the world's respect.

The funeral was closed casket. No one wanted to see Barry as the way he was when he died. No one wanted to remember that frail, bald, sickly version of him. They wanted to remember _Barry_. They wanted to remember him as he was when he was full of light and life, the way he could light up a room just by walking in it. There were countless pictures of Barry at the service, to help serve as a remembrance for him. There were some from his childhood, of him with his parents as a kid. There were many of him with Joe and Iris, all throughout high school and college up to the present. He looked so happy in all of them, a bright smile on his face in each photo. They had almost forgotten what Barry's smile looked like. He had been sick for a long time.

For some, the photos were hard to look at. For others, they were a comfort. It made them feel like Barry was still there with them. The service wasn't just to mourn his death but also to celebrate his life. Barry had done a lot in his life despite his young age, but a lot of them couldn't help but dwell on the fact that there was a lot that Barry would never get to do. He would never get married, never have children or grandchildren. He had been such a bright person, and all the promising potential that he had possessed would now go unexplored. They would never know all of the great things Barry no doubt would have done with his life had it not been cut short way too soon.

"Thank you," Iris said softly when another detective from the CCPD offered his condolences. After he had walked away, Iris looked around the room. Most people were just standing around, talking after the sermon. She looked over to the table where they had all of the photos of Barry, and she saw a familiar woman standing there, staring at the happy photos.

"Hi, Patty," Iris said solemnly, coming to stand next to her by the table. Iris's eyes quickly focused on one of the photos there, one from Barry's college graduation day. Patty didn't say anything back at first. She stared blankly at the photos, her face expressionless.

"He never told me," she whispered, not looking up from the photos, "I didn't even know he was sick."

Iris nodded sadly when Patty finally looked up at her.

"Why didn't he tell me?" she asked Iris, tears starting to well in her eyes, "I could have been there for him. I…I would have stayed. I wouldn't have left like I did."

"Barry didn't want that," Iris said quietly, "He didn't want to hold you back. He just wanted what was best for you."

"What would have been best for me would have been being able to say goodbye," Patty said, her voice cracking in anger and pain, "Now, he'll never know…"

She sighed heavily, tears filling her eyes.

"He'll never know how I felt," she said painfully, "We won't ever know what we could have been. That's what keeps running through my head. He died thinking I had just up and left him. Thinking I didn't care."

Her voice broke on the last word, and her tears brimmed over. Iris wrapped her arms around Patty just as the other woman started to sob. She cried hard into Iris's shoulder, hugging her back tightly. Iris knew exactly how she felt. She hadn't gotten to say her goodbye either. Barry had died thinking that she had been angry with him, thinking that she would forever resent him for choosing to stop fighting.

She now felt no resentment towards Barry for giving up. All she felt was grief. Grief and guilt. She could never tell him that she had accepted his decision. He had died thinking she hated him, and Iris was going to have to live with that terrible guilt for the rest of her life.

Barry's casket was carried by several officers from the precinct. Barry wasn't an officer. He was a CSI, but many from the CCPD insisted he be given an officer's burial, and Barry's photo went up on the precinct wall, right alongside Eddie's and those of all the other fallen heroes of the CCPD.

He was buried right alongside his mother. His grave was marked with a beautiful white headstone to match hers. Caitlin stared at that during the ceremony instead of the coffin. It somehow made easier as they were lowering the casket into the earth.

_Barry Allen_

_Beloved Son and Friend_

_Born March 19, 1989_

_Died May 17, 2016_

_"_ _There is no better world than one with you."_

Henry had picked the quote. He said it was something that he, Nora, and Barry had always said to each other.

Caitlin stared at the words carved into the stone, frustrated every time they became blurry when she failed to reign in her tears. She still felt like she had no right to cry. She still felt like the doctor who had to keep it all together. She knew that no one there blamed her, but they should. She was the one who had failed to save him. This was all on her. Caitlin thought her throat was going to tear in two with how sore it felt from holding back her tears.

She felt Cisco's hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her, but it only made her feel more guilty. She didn't deserve to be comforted. She had let Barry die. She had let him reach that point. She had let him waste away in front of them. She had let him sign those papers…

She had failed.

Henry's fists were clenched as he watched his son's casket be lowered into the ground, right alongside his wife's. He hadn't been able to attend her funeral. He was under police custody at the time. Even if he had been allowed to go, he would have been hated by everyone else there, all of them thinking he had killed her. Barry hadn't gone to her funeral either. It had been too much for the little boy. He had still been in denial at the time, and going to the funeral would have made it too real for him.

As the casket was lowered, with it went all of Henry's pain, love, and grief. Once it was in the ground, all Henry felt was emptiness. He felt a void in his heart that seemed like it would never be filled again, as if his heart had been torn right out of his chest and was being buried along with his wife and son. Without Barry in his life, he felt like the empty shell of a man. His life held no meaning, no purpose. Henry would never call himself suicidal, but he did find himself longing for the day when he would join his family. He didn't know where he was going to go from here, what he was going to do with the rest of his life without Barry in it.

Joe stood next to Henry as Barry's coffin was being lowered, the two father's standing side by side, both suffering the same crippling grief of losing their son. Joe found himself looking over at Iris often, not only to see how she was handling all of this, but also to remind himself that he still had her. He still had Iris. He still had one child left. Henry had no one.

Cisco focused on comforting Caitlin. He knew she was taking this hard, wrongfully blaming herself for Barry's death, and Cisco was trying to help her through it. It was easier for him to focus on helping someone else with their grief rather than face his own. He didn't want to face those feelings of loss and heartache. He didn't want to break down. He still hadn't cried. He hadn't shed a single tear since Barry's death. He felt guilty, like something was wrong with him. His best friend died, and he couldn't even cry about it. He couldn't feel anything. He wouldn't _let_ himself feel it. He knew that delaying the pain was only going to make it worse when he finally let himself feel it, but he numbed himself anyways. It was simply too hard, too raw. He couldn't deal with his own feelings at the moment, so instead he focused on someone else's. He focused on comforting Caitlin.

Leonard Snart didn't know what the hell he was doing here. Barry's friends and family all stood some distance away from him, crying and mourning his loss. He didn't have any right to be here. He hardly even knew the kid. They were enemies. He didn't understand why he felt the need to come. The kid's death had been eating at him for some reason ever since he read about it in the paper. When he had stumbled across Barry's obituary in the newspaper, he had stared at it in shock. He knew the kid had been MIA lately, but he had figured the Flash was simply taking a well-deserved vacation or something, not battling cancer of all things.

Len stood back a few yards away from the group or mourners. He didn't want to be seen here. Something told him he wasn't exactly wanted here. He, himself, didn't really know why he had come. He had even lied to Mic and Lisa about it, something he didn't normally do. He had told them he was casing a new job. If they knew that he was actually attending the Flash's funeral, they would probably be just as confused by his actions as he was.

"You had to get sick," Len muttered under his breath, "Of all the ways you could have gone out, you had to go and get sick. You're losing your flare, Scarlet."

Leonard sighed as he watched the group of Barry's friends, family, and coworkers standing some distance away, mourning his loss. The kid was too good for this, too kind-hearted. Len didn't exactly like him and his self-rightous speeches that he was always giving him, but he knew he had never wanted the kid to die, despite all the times he had "tried" to kill him. Something about the kid's death made him sick to his stomach. It just wasn't right that someone so good could have their life taken from them so soon.

"Goodbye, Barry," Len whispered, before turning and leaving the cemetery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: The quote on the headstone is the one they put on Henry's headstone in the canon storyline, and Barry's death date is the air date of the episode with Henry's death, so it's sort of like Barry took Henry's place in this story.
> 
> I think I'll probably do just one more chapter showing them all trying to move on after losing Barry. Like this one, the next chapter may take some time. This fic is just too hard to write, and I have to be in a special kind of mood to sit down and work on it.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought!


	3. Mourned

Over the next couple days after the funeral, none of them knew what to do. They all didn't know where to go from here. Moving on seemed impossible without Barry in their lives. Iris didn't go back to work. The idea of it was unbearable to her, to sit there at her desk listening to her editor think of new ways to tarnish the Flash's reputation. The rest of Central City didn't even know that he was dead yet. To them, the Flash had simply disappeared and hadn't been seen for several months. Many assumed he was dead, but nobody really knew for sure.

Joe stayed at home with her, not quite ready to go back to work himself. He wasn't sure if he ever would be able to go back there, working every day thinking in the back of his mind that Barry was still in his lab upstairs only to remember painfully that he wasn't. The captain was being so understanding about everything. Usually, their policy was that employees got only three funeral days for lost spouses or children. Technically, Joe wasn't even supposed to get even that, considering Barry wasn't actually his child by blood, but Singh said to hell with the policies. He gave Joe as much time as he needed to mourn and to figure things out, and Joe was extremely grateful for it.

It didn't matter that Barry wasn't his by blood. Joe still grieved as a parent who had lost a child would grieve. Barry _was_ his child. He was his son. Maybe not by blood, but hell if Barry hadn't been his son. He would always be his son, and Joe now felt a void in his heart that felt like it would never be filled again. Nothing and nobody could ever fill that place in his heart that Barry had occupied. It would always be empty now, a gaping wound, ready to bleed at the slightest touch.

The hardest part was thinking back to those last few days when they were waiting for Barry to pass. Joe had never felt more helpless in his life. He had always had a fierce desire to protect his children. He would protect them with his life if he had to, but he couldn't protect Barry. He couldn't cure cancer. He couldn't threaten it with a gun or a badge. He couldn't will it away, as much as he had tried. As much as he had prayed, his prayers had been ignored. He couldn't save Barry.

His desire to protect his children—his remaining child—grew after Barry's death. Joe watched over Iris with a fierce paternal protectiveness that was directly connected to his grief over losing Barry. He wouldn't lose another child. He wouldn't let that happen. He wanted to shield her from the world, lock her away where nothing and no one could ever hurt her. He would protect her from the evils of the world around them.

Unfortunately, he couldn't protect her from the pain of Barry's loss. As much as he wanted to shield her from the grief and the misery of it all, he couldn't. All he could do was support her and try to comfort her to help her through it.

Joe knocked lightly on the door of Iris's room before entering, a bowl of mac n' cheese in hand.

"Hey," he said softly.

She looked over from where she sat at her desk, her laptop in front of her.

"Hey," she answered quietly.

"I brought you some food," Joe said hopefully, "I thought you could use something to eat. You've been in here all day."

"I'm not really hungry," she said quietly, looking away from him.

"Can you please just eat a little?" Joe asked her desperately, "Please, Iris. I know it's hard. I haven't had much of an appetite myself this last week, but it's not healthy to just stop eating."

"I'll eat later," Iris said quietly, her back still turned to him.

Joe sighed and walked over to her desk, setting the bowl firmly down in front of her.

"Please, eat, Iris," he said, his voice quivering slightly.

She looked up at him, not understanding why he suddenly had tears in his eyes.

"Dad?"

Joe held back a sob, covering his mouth with his hand. He shakily lowered it after a moment before speaking.

"Please, Iris. I can't…I can't bear to have another one of my kids waste away in front of me."

Iris's confused expression softened into a look of understanding. She felt a twisting feeling in her stomach upon hearing these words, her mind instantly flashing back to Barry, to seeing him struggle through every meal only to throw it up again. Seeing his ribs protruding out just beneath his skin. The forced tube feedings. The arguments they had with him as they urged him to try, to just _try_ to eat something for them. The guilt they felt when Barry started to cry as he forced himself to eat, fighting down the nausea.

"Okay, dad," she said quickly, picking up the fork, "Okay, I'm eating. Alright? I'm eating."

Joe nodded, looking somewhat satisfied. He brushed a hand over his face, wiping away a stray tear before touching Iris's shoulder gently.

"Thank you," he said before turning to leave the room.

"Dad," Iris said to stop him. Joe turned and looked back at her. "You don't have to worry about me."

Joe's lip quivered for a moment before he said in barely more than a whisper, "That's what Barry always said."

…..

Caitlin didn't normally watch TV, but since Barry had passed away, she found herself suddenly watching it a lot more often. Normally she read books in her free time, but lately she had had a hard time focusing enough to read, her eyes constantly sliding over the page without ever taking in a single word. So instead, she found herself mindlessly flipping through the channels on her television, looking for a decent movie or show to lose herself into for a while, to just forget everything and escape into someone else's life. She finally settled on Grease. It was a classic after all, and no matter how many times she had seen it, it usually managed to keep her attention.

It was working too. Caitlin was finally managing to slip into a state of ease and numbness, but suddenly she was jerked out of it when Olivia Newton John started to sing a certain musical number. Summer Nights.

_Summer Lovin, had me a blast_

_Summer Lovin, happened so fast_

Tears instantly sprang to her eyes when she heard it. She quickly grabbed her remote and aimed it at the TV, but she hesitated to hit the off button when John Travolta started to sing.

_I met a girl, crazy for me_

A tear slid down Caitlin's face as she watched, no longer really even seeing the TV anymore, just listening to the song and thinking back about that night out at the karaoke bar with Barry. For a moment, she thought it even sounded like Barry singing the male part of the song. He had been so happy that night, so care free as she and him let loose and forgot about their troubles for one evening. He had made her feel better. Being around Barry had always made her feel better. He had just had that effect on people. He had even taken care of her that night, helping her home and tucking her into bed, reversing the doctor-patient roles for once. If only she had been able to take care of him. If only she had been able to save him.

The next thing she knew, horrible ugly tears were falling freely down her face and ragged sobs were escaping her throat. She didn't hold back this time. She was alone in her apartment now where no one could see her. She wasn't the professional doctor who had lost a patient now. She was simply a woman who had lost one of her closest friends.

It was like a faucet had been opened, and once the tears had started, Caitlin didn't know how to turn them off. She clutched one of her couch pillows as she sobbed, gasping for air as tears flowed nonstop down her face. She hardly even heard the singing coming from her television anymore. All she could focus on was the fact that she was never going to see Barry again. He was just gone, and he couldn't be there to comfort her now as she cried into the silence of her apartment. He couldn't be there to make her feel better.

…..

Henry sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his reflection of his dresser mirror. He had always stood by the strong belief that things happened for a reason, but now…

There was no reason for this. No greater plan by God or bigger design by the universe that caused this to happen. There was no sense to it. It didn't make sense. Why Barry? What had he done to deserve this? What had Henry done to deserve this? What reason could there be for him to have his son taken from him? What reason could there be for Barry to suffer such an ugly, undignified and painfully slow death? Henry had survived everything that had happened to him in his life on the blind faith that there was a reason for all of it, but now…now he thought that was all bullshit. Now he was just angry.

He glared at his own reflection. He had failed his son. He had failed to save his life, but more than that, he had failed to be there for Barry. He had left him just when they had finally been reunited. Henry could be angry with the universe for taking Barry away from him so soon after they had just been brought together again, but in truth, Henry was angrier with himself. He had missed his chance. He had missed his chance to spend as much time with his son as he could. He had thrown away that opportunity away when he had left town, also hurting Barry in the process. How could he have thought that was the best decision? At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do because he didn't want to hold Barry back, but now that just seemed stupid. He should have cherished every moment with Barry while he could, but instead he wasted the little bit of time they would have had together.

In his life, he had lost his wife, his freedom, and now his son. It was too much. Henry had come to terms with the rest of it, but losing Barry, that was something he was never going to be able to accept. How could any parent ever accept having to bury their own child? Barry had been the one good thing left in his life. He was like a ray of sunlight, casting away all of the dark shadows of the tragedies that they had both suffered. But now that light was extinguished, and the worst part of it was knowing that that light had burnt out in Barry long before his heart had stopped beating.

…..

Caitlin and Cisco both continued to go to STAR Labs every day, although they didn't really know why. There wasn't much there for them anymore. Caitlin's eyes were red and puffy most of the time. She had spent so long holding back her tears the entire time that Barry was sick, trying to remain professional since she was his doctor. Now she was finally letting her tears fall freely, crying on and off throughout the day.

She was growing more and more concerned for Cisco. Surprisingly, he still had yet to shed a tear since Barry's passing. He was unreadable for the most part, not quite sad but also definitely not his usual happy self. He was just numb. He was keeping busy, working almost frantically on his multiple projects as if stopping even for a moment would cause him to think too much.

"Cisco," Caitlin said heavily, walking into his workshop, "What are you even working on?"

"Just some old projects," he said dismissively, "I kind of put them on hold for a while during all the…"

Cisco sighed and cleared his throat.

"How are you doing?" he asked her quietly, "You look tired. You should really go home and get some sleep."

"I can't sleep," Caitlin said, looking at the floor.

"You should try to," Cisco persisted, "You've been practically living here for months. You deserve a rest."

Caitlin swallowed back the lump in her throat.

"I tried," she said quietly, "I tried so hard…to find the cure, but—"

"Caitlin, it wasn't your fault," Cisco said for what must have been the millionth time.

"I promised him, Cisco," she said in a strained voice, "I promised Barry that everything was going to be okay."

"We all know that you can't heal everything. He knew that too. Sometimes things are just out of your hands."

"But we found it," she said earnestly, " _Henry_ found it. He found the cure, found what I had been overlooking for months. If I had just noticed it sooner…"

"Cait, stop," Cisco said firmly, "It's not going to do you any good to play the 'what if' game in your head all the time. You did all that you could. You did everything you could for him."

"Barry," Caitlin said quietly.

Cisco stared at her.

"Barry," she said again, "You never say his name anymore, Cisco. You hardly talk about him at all."

Cisco looked away from her and went back to tinkering with his tech project.

"Cisco, you need to process all of this eventually," she said, "You need to let yourself grieve."

"I don't need to," he said firmly, "I'm fine."

Caitlin stared at him for a moment longer before finally turning and leaving the room. Everybody grieved in their own ways, and right now, denial was Cisco's way of getting through it. Caitlin knew it was only temporary though, and she was going to be there for Cisco when he finally allowed himself to feel everything. She was going to be there for him the same way that he had been there for her, the same way Barry would have been if he were here.

…..

Joe started shaking Iris the moment he heard her whimpering in her sleep. She had been avoiding going to bed lately, but she was so exhausted now that she had accidently fallen asleep on the couch.

"Iris," Joe said, shaking her again, "Iris, wake up."

Iris opened her eyes almost immediately. She sat up quickly, wiping the tears from her face.

"Barry," she said in a strained voice, "Barry, he…"

"He's gone, Iris," Joe said sadly, knowing he was shattering her heart in the process.

He had had these moments too. Moments after waking up where he thought that Barry was still alive, only to become crushed by renewed grief when he remembered that Barry was gone.

Iris let out a shaky breath, new tears spilling from her eyes. She wiped them away quickly.

"Right," she whispered, looking down at her hands in her lap.

Joe wished desperately that he could do more to comfort her. He was just about to put his hand on hers when Iris stood up from the couch and walked over towards the fireplace. Joe watched her sadly from the couch as she stood in front of the mantel of the fireplace where they had several picture frames propped up on display, Barry being in many of the photos. Her eyes settled on one of Barry at the CCPD, his first day on the job. He and her father were standing in his lab, arms slung across each other's shoulders, a wide grin occupying Barry's face.

"Iris, are you okay?" he asked her, staring at her back.

He glanced at the photo she was staring at, feeling his gut wrench at the sight of it. He hadn't realized until recently just how many photos of Barry they had in the house. They were somewhat hard to look at, but neither of them had the heart to take them down. It might be hard to see them every day, but taking them down would feel like they were trying to erase Barry, trying to forget him. Neither of them wanted that.

"No," she answered quietly, "I just keep thinking…"

She sighed and shook her head, still not looking at him.

"What?" Joe asked her, urging her to continue.

Finally she turned and faced him, her eyes glistening with wet tears. There was a hint of anger in her features, masked only by her sorrow.

"I keep thinking about how everything happened," she said in a strained voice, "I still can't help but feel like we just let him die."

"We didn't let him die, Iris," Joe said immediately, "We did everything we could."

"No, we didn't," she said, her voice shaking slightly with emotion, "We should have saved him. We should have saved him that night."

"Iris, what if we had revived him?" Joe said sadly, "What if we had brought him back and somehow convinced him to keep trying, to keep getting treatments? And then what if Barry suffered through more months of unbearably painful treatments only to still not make it? Do you realize how terrible that would have been? How horrible it would have been to put him through all of that, to prolong his suffering only to have him still die months later? I know it was a hard call, but I'm convinced we made the right one."

"I guess we'll never really know how things would have turned out," she said quietly.

"Iris…" Joe said in a pained voice, "It's what Barry wanted."

"And that makes it okay?" she asked through her tears. "The fact that he was so miserable and in so much pain near the end that he wanted to die? That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, it's supposed to make you feel relieved," Joe said sadly, "Barry was relieved from his suffering. He's in a better place now."

"God, I just wish…I wish it had been quick," she cried, "I wish he had died fighting a metahuman or something. Spending months in a bed, vomiting and losing his mind…"

"I know," Joe said quietly.

Iris turned around to stare at the photo of Barry again.

"I didn't think that I was still angry," she said, staring at Barry's face, "But I am. A part of me is still angry with him for giving up."

"Iris…"

"And that makes all this that much harder," she said, her voice cracking. She reached up to her face, and although Joe couldn't see from behind her, he could tell that she was wiping her eyes.

"I want to be angry," she said, "But I can't be because he's dead. How can I be angry with Barry for dying? What's wrong with me?"

"You're not angry with Barry, Iris," Joe said quietly, walking up to where she stood to place a hand on her shoulder, "You're angry, but you're not angry with Barry."

Iris turned around and looked at her dad, her face screwed up against her tears.

"I just miss him so much, dad," she sobbed, crashing into him as she hugged him. Joe wrapped his arms around his daughter, feeling his own tears now sliding down his face.

"I do, too, baby girl," he said softly, "I miss Barry, too."

…..

"I'm so sorry, Nora," Henry said, stooped in front of his wife's gravestone.

It was his first time coming here since the funeral. The flowers on Barry's grave were still fresh. Henry wondered absently who was maintaining them. Probably Joe or Iris or somebody else from Team Flash.

"I couldn't save him," he choked, "I couldn't save our little boy."

He brushed a tear from his face and stood looking down at the two gravestones in front of him. It felt too real being here, seeing Barry's name etched into the headstone, standing in the place where his son was buried six feet below where he stood. Henry felt guilty that it had taken him this long to come here. He had had a hard time leaving his apartment lately, not really having any place that he wanted to go. The Wests had invited him over for dinner with them several times, but he always declined. When Henry finally did decide to leave the apartment, he didn't know where to go. He didn't feel up for any social interactions. There was only one person that he wanted to talk to, but he couldn't. Barry was dead.

"I'm sorry, Barry," he choked, looking down at Barry's grave, "You didn't get the time with me that you deserved. I'm so sorry I left."

Tears flowed down his face as he stared at the headstone. At least Barry was with his mother now. He didn't get nearly enough time with either of his parents in his life, but at least in death, they were together. Henry found himself thinking that maybe Barry was the lucky one. At least he wasn't alone like Henry was now.

Henry would give anything to trade places with him though. Barry would have had a whole life ahead of him. He had so many things left for him to do, so many years left to live through. Henry had seen his better days, and he didn't see how there could possibly be many more to come without his family in his life anymore. He would give anything to be the one buried next to Nora right now. Anything, if it meant his son could live.

…

The house was quiet and dark without Barry in it. When Barry had come to live with them as a kid, the house had suddenly been filled with this indescribable joy and light, but now that light had been extinguished, leaving behind a heavy dark silence in its wake. Barry's absence in the house was almost palpable. It weighed heavily on them in every moment they spent there.

It wasn't just the photos or the memories of Barry that haunted the West house. It was the small things he had left behind. His shampoo that still sat on the shelf in the shower, Barry's cereal in the pantry that only he had liked to eat, the scorch marks that were still on the kitchen ceiling from one of Barry's crazier high school experiments gone wrong. They still got mail for Barry all the time. Multiple science magazine subscriptions and junk mail addressed with his name arrived in their mailbox every day. It was always a punch to the gut just to get the mail now.

Everywhere they looked, they were reminded of Barry.

Neither of them ever sat on the left side of the couch. That had been where Barry always sat. Now the spot always remained empty, an aching reminder of Barry's absence. The watch list on their Netflix account was full of Barry's science documentaries that he had been saving for later. They didn't have the heart to delete them, even though Barry would never get the chance to watch them now. In fact, they didn't have the heart to get rid of anything that reminded them of Barry.

Joe had even caught Iris sitting at the kitchen counter one day, staring at an old grocery list that was clearly written in Barry's handwriting. Things that normally seemed meaningless and mundane now held meaning for them, because they came from Barry. They were the things he had left behind.

Joe was guilty of it too. He used the same mug for his coffee every morning. Really, there was nothing special about it. It was just a simple mug, boring, with hardly any sort of design on it. There was a chip on the rim of it, and this was what made it so special. Barry had dropped it one night when he was trying to help out with the dishes. Barry really had always been such a klutz when it came to house chores, and the sight of the chipped mug made Joe smile in amusement every time he looked at it. It wasn't even a meaningful memory. Barry had simply picked the mug back up, declared that it was still useable and washed it before returning it to the shelf. That had been it. Yet Joe cherished that mug now as if the memory of that random moment with Barry had so much more meaning.

Iris found herself constantly pulling out her cellphone to dial Barry's number. A small part of her still thought he might answer one of these times, even though she knew that was impossible. She listened to his voicemail recording over and over again, letting the sound of Barry's voice both put her at ease and shatter her heart at the same time. It felt good to hear his voice, as painful as it was. Iris was worried that with time she would start to forget what it sounded like. The idea of it seemed impossible to her, but it was one of her biggest fears. Forgetting Barry.

Her memory of him already felt like it was tainted, her mental images of Barry blurring with images of how he had looked when he had died, so frail and sickly and un-Barry-like. When she pictured him in her head now, she saw both the sick version of him and the healthy, happy person that the cancer had destroyed. Iris would lay away at night, picturing Barry's face in her mind, remembering every detail of it. The one part she could never remember quite right were his eyes. She couldn't remember how Barry had looked when he still had light in his eyes. All she could remember now was seeing the pain in them, the misery he had suffered through because of his illness. The cancer had taken so much from all of them. It had taken him away from her, and now still, it was tarnishing her memory of him.

Iris found herself leaving the house to go for walks often. It felt strange, walking through the suburban parts of Central City. There was something that felt so wrong about it.

The sun kept on shining. The birds kept on singing. People went on about their days, walking by, carefree and unaffected. Everything still seemed the same, and yet it was all so different now.

She didn't understand how the rest of the world kept going, continued on without Barry in it. How could everyone just go on about their lives when Barry was dead? How did the world keep on turning without him in it? Days went by and turned into weeks. Seasons changed. The snow on the ground melted and winter slowly turned into spring.

Spring had always been Barry's favorite time of year. He had always said that he loved watching things come back to life, like they were coming back from the dead, refreshed with new life. Barry hadn't survived through the winter to see it though. He had died before he could watch things go from dreary gray to fresh, lively green again. Now, everything was coming back to life around them, all except for Barry.

…..

"I can't wait any longer, Joe. I just want this to be over with."

Barry's hollow eyes gazed up at him, tears escaping them to slide down his pale face.

"I just want to know that I have your blessing first."

"Of course, Bar," Joe choked, "Whatever you need. If you're ready to let go…it's okay. You—You can let go now, Barry."

"Thank you," Barry cried, his voice filled with gratitude, as if this was the permission he had been waiting for all along, "Thank you, Joe. I love you."

Joe leaned forward and kissed Barry's forehead, sniffling as he tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. When he pulled back again, Barry's eyes were closed, his face tearstained but peaceful.

"I love you too, Barry," he whispered.

Joe then pulled out his gun from the holster on his hip. He cocked it back, hearing the click of a bullet shifting into the chamber before placing the end of the barrel to Barry's forehead. His finger found the trigger and squeezed.

BANG!

Joe shot upright in bed with a gasp. He was disoriented at first when his eyes met the darkness of his bedroom. He was covered in a sheer layer of sweat. Joe flicked on the lamp that was next to his bed. He groaned as he rubbed his eyes, brushing away the tears on his face in the process. He fell back against the pillows with a sigh. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep after this.

It was the third night in a row that this had happened. He didn't know what it meant. Was it just his guilt? Were the dreams manifesting from his feelings of guilt about how things had happened? Were they happening because he felt as if he had killed Barry by allowing him to die? He had been the one who gave Barry his blessing after all. He was the one who told Barry to let go. That was on him and him alone.

Joe was distracted from his thoughts when he heard a sound come from downstairs. It was a dull hum, almost a soft murmuring sound as if someone was talking, but Joe couldn't distinguish any words from it, just a wordless voice. And then he heard what was unmistakably a laugh. Joe felt his stomach clench as his blood ran cold. That was Barry's laugh.

Shakily, Joe sat back up in bed and swung his legs over the edge, rising quickly and moving over to the door of his bedroom. He thought that maybe he had imagined it, but then he heard it again. A muffled voice reached his ears through the closed door. As Joe opened the door, the sound grew louder, and it was unmistakably Barry's voice that he was hearing. He stepped outside of his room into the dark hallway.

"Joe, you're doing it wrong," he heard Barry's voice say.

Joe froze for a moment before quickly heading for the stairs. A soft light was coming from downstairs, which also seemed to be where the voice was coming from. Joe descended the steps quickly.

When Joe reached the landing halfway down the stairs, he found the source of the sound. Looking down into the living room, he could see the TV screen that was illuminating the otherwise dark room. Joe's heart clenched when he saw Barry's image appear on the screen.

"Joe, this is all wrong," Barry laughed, reaching up towards the Christmas tree to remove an ornament that Joe had just placed, "This one is Iris's favorite. It always has to go to the front of the tree."

Joe slowly stepped down the stairs, staring at the screen as he moved closer to the TV. His own voice suddenly retorted.

"Well how am I supposed to know that?" he asked with a laugh as Barry rehung the ornament so that it was front and center on the tree.

"I only tell you guys every year," Iris's voice suddenly said. She must have been the one filming the two of them.

"And we all know what happens if the princess doesn't get her way," Barry said, laughing as he grabbed another ornament from the box to hang up.

"Barry Allen, you take that back," Iris's voice said reproachfully.

Barry just laughed and stuck his tongue out at her, which earned him a light smack on the arm as Iris's hand came into view on the screen to hit him.

"Ow," he said dramatically, "How am I supposed to hang these ornaments with an injured arm?"

"Oh, stop being such a baby," Iris laughed.

"Why don't you help us?" Barry asked her, still rubbing his arm but smiling at the same time, "Instead of standing there filming us and hitting me."

"I'm making the eggnog," Iris told him, "That's how this always goes. I make the eggnog while you and my dad decorate the tree. And after this you get to hang up the Christmas lights outside."

Barry rolled his eyes, but smiled at her as he handed Joe another ornament.

"I swear you're like some kind of work tyrant, Iris," he said with a laugh. Iris giggled.

"But you love me anyways," she teased.

Joe smiled knowingly at the TV screen as he watched Barry's face turn bright right red at these words. He could see himself on the screen giving Barry the same knowing smirk as he amusedly watched the boy struggle to maintain his grasp on the ornament he was holding.

Joe felt tears sliding down his face as he watched the happy memory unfold on the TV screen before him. His attention was pulled away from the screen, however, when he heard a sniffle come from the couch down below. That was when he noticed Iris sitting there, crying softly as she watched the family video on the TV screen in front of her. Joe descended down the rest of the stairs to move closer towards the couch where she was sitting.

"Iris," he said softly.

Iris jumped and turned around to look at him. There were multiple tissues on the table in front of her, and fresh tears were streaming down her face.

"Dad," she said, her eyes going wide, "I'm so sorry. I didn't think you'd be up right now."

She quickly reached for the remote to turn the TV off.

"Don't," he said in a strained voice. He wiped a few tears from his face and paused for a moment before saying, "Leave it on."

She gave him an unsure look but set the remote back down nonetheless. The video continued to play in the background as the two of them looked at each other.

"Mind if I join you?" Joe asked his daughter.

"I'd like that," Iris said, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

Joe sat down next to her on the couch, both of them wordlessly returning their attention back to the screen. Joe and Barry were arguing about whether they should put an angel or a star on top of the tree. Barry had always wanted to put a star on top, while Joe always pushed for the angel. Iris was usually the one who decided it once and for all though.

Now, Joe would have let Barry do whatever he wanted to their Christmas tree this year if he were still here. They hadn't really celebrated this last Christmas. Barry had been sick and going through treatment at the time, so they had ignored the holiday entirely. They had tried to celebrate a little bit at STAR Labs, but Barry had been so sick and exhausted that day that it hadn't been much of a celebration.

Joe and Iris both laughed and cried as they watched the rest of the video together. And for a moment, just a moment, it felt like the left side of the couch wasn't so empty. For a moment, it felt like Barry was sitting right there watching it with them.

…..

**Alright, just one more chapter after this, I think. Central City still needs answers about what happened to Flash.**

**Please leave a quick review for me because I feel as though I'm grieving right along with the characters in this story as I'm writing it, and it would be nice to know I'm not alone in this feeling. Wow, that's so dramatic. Sorry.**


	4. Honored

* * *

**Honored**

* * *

Iris stared at the envelope on the counter, wanting to know what it was exactly but also afraid to open it and find out. All she could do was stare at the address label:

_To the family of Bartholomew Allen._

“Dad,” she said softly when her father entered the kitchen, “This just came in the mail.”

She handed him the envelope, and her father stared at for a moment, clearly just as clueless about it as she was.

“Norstad Financial?” he asked, looking at the return address.

After sharing a brief, questioning look with Iris, Joe opened the envelope and took out one of the forms inside. Iris saw his expression change instantly when he looked at the piece of paper. His eyes grew wide for a moment and then quickly filled with tears as he placed a hand over his mouth.

“What is it, dad?” Iris asked urgently, moving closer to him to look at the paper in his hand.

“It’s…” he said in a strained voice, “It’s a check.”

He handed her the paper, and Iris saw it for herself.

“It’s Barry’s life insurance policy,” her father whispered.

Iris frowned down at the check in her hand.

“Life insurance?” she asked, “But Barry doesn’t have…”

Barry was— _had been_ only twenty-six. He didn’t have _life insurance_.

“Of course,” Joe muttered to himself as he pulled a second sheet of paper from the envelope to read it, “Of course he would.”

Iris felt her own eyes fill with tears as she finally understood.

“When did Barry do this?” she whispered, a lump already forming in her throat.

“It looks like he set it up shortly after getting diagnosed,” her father told her, reading the form he was holding.

Iris shook her head, tears starting to fall now. Of course that’s the first thing Barry would have worried about. Never mind the fact that he had cancer; his number one concern had simply been for what would happen to his family if he were gone. Barry had covered his bases, had prepared for the aftermath of his own death long before they had even considered it a possibility. Iris didn’t even know what to make of that.

It was like Barry knew.

“Damn you, Barry,” Iris choked, glaring down at the check in her hand, “Damn you for being so selfless.”

This was somehow worse than when they had inherited the rest of Barry’s assets. Barry had left STAR Labs and everything else he owned to all of them, splitting it between the Wests, Henry, and the rest of Team Flash. That had been hard enough, but the idea that Barry had had the foresight to take out a life insurance policy for them was just too much.

The entire time he was sick, he had been arranging all of this behind their backs. He had been making plans, preparing for the possibility of his own death.

Joe felt sick to his stomach at the idea of cashing the check. He didn’t want the money. He would give all the money in the world just to have one more moment with Barry. He would cash it anyways, knowing that’s what Barry would have wanted, but it was going to kill him to do it.

* * *

Joe had to take deep breaths as he walked into the CCPD. It was his first time going there since Barry had died. Several of his coworkers gave him sad smiles, happy to see him there, but knowing he wasn’t there to come back to the force. No.

He was there to clean out Barry’s lab.

He glanced briefly at the memorial photo of Barry that was on the precinct wall, right next to Eddie’s and the rest of the fallen heroes of the CCPD. He looked away from it quickly. He was growing weary of constantly seeing Barry’s face everywhere he went. He didn’t think his heart could bear it anymore. The photos around the house were starting to get to him, even more now than ever. He thought it would grow easier with time, but it seemed that the more time that passed, the more he missed Barry and the more his heart would ache every time he saw a photograph of him.

Joe climbed the stairs to the lab with a heavy heart, having to constantly remind himself that Barry wouldn’t be there. A part of him still half-expected to find Barry standing in his lab, hunched over his microscope, going about his day like normal, maybe planning to ask him to go grab some lunch with him later.

Instead, Joe found Carl in the lab, pipetting a few blood samples into test tubes for analysis. He looked over at Joe as he entered, his face falling when he saw who it was.

“Detective West,” he said sadly, “How…how are you doing?”

Joe let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m managing,” he replied tersely, “And please, call me Joe.”

Carl nodded.

“I…I can help you if you want,” he offered, wringing his hands, “I know how hard this must be for you.”

Joe shook his head.

“That’s okay,” he said, “I think this is something I’d rather do alone. I’m not going to take much anyways. Just his personal things. You can keep his lab tech. I don’t have any use for it anyways, and I’m sure…I’m sure Barry would have wanted you to have it.”

Carl nodded sadly and sighed.

“I wish I had gotten to know him better,” he said quietly, “I just feel like…like I’m not really allowed to grieve him. Everyone else here knew Barry so much longer than I did, and I didn’t really know him that well, but I still feel so sad over his loss. I feel like I’ve lost a close friend, which I know is ridiculous, but…”

“Barry had that effect on people,” Joe said with a sad smile, “It didn’t take knowing him long to get attached.”

Carl nodded in agreement.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he said quietly after a moment.

Joe nodded gratefully, and Carl left the lab, leaving Joe standing there by himself.

He let out a shaky sigh before making his way over to Barry’s desk. Everything on the desk was untouched. It looked like it had been maybe dusted by the cleaning staff, but all of Barry’s things remained in the same places they always were, as if he had just been here and would be returning to the lab any minute.

Joe set down the empty cardboard box he had gotten for Barry’s things. His hands now free, Joe had no idea where to begin. Barry’s workspace was organized and orderly for the most part, but he had a lot of stuff, and Joe didn’t know what he should pack up first.

He decided to start with the desktop, grabbing the framed photo that was sitting there first. It was a photo of the Barry and his mother, Barry’s young eyes twinkling as she wrapped her arms around him from behind. Joe carefully set the frame in the box, glad to have it out of the way. This was hard enough without having a photo of the boy he had lost staring at Joe as he went through his things.

On top of the desk also sat a snow globe, the one that had belonged to Barry’s mother. Joe held it in his hand for a prolonged moment, staring at it with watery eyes. It had been one of Barry’s most precious possessions, and now it was going into a box. He would have to pull it out later and give it to Henry. It would mean so much more to him than it would to the Wests. They had so many of Barry’s things to hold onto, but Henry had very little to remember his son by. This would be the perfect thing to give to him because it had also belonged to his wife.

Barry’s desk contained mostly just office supplies and multiple CSI reference books that Barry had hardly ever even used because he had practically memorized them ages ago. In the back of one of the bottom drawers of the desk, Joe found at least fifteen calorie bars tucked away, all still wrapped in their original packaging. He wondered sadly if Barry had simply stored them here or if he had _hidden_ them here because he wasn’t hungry and wanted them to think he had eaten them. Joe really hoped it wasn’t the latter. Although, he wouldn’t have held it against Barry if it was. It didn’t make him angry, only sad.

He also found a few half-empty medication bottles in one of the drawers, most of them being for nausea. Barry had all but given up on taking them, seeing as most of them didn’t really help stop him from throwing up. What was perhaps the most upsetting, however, was when Joe found a small pamphlet at the bottom of a drawer: a medical pamphlet. For a full minute, all Joe could do was stand there as he stared at the cover.

_Helping Your Loved Ones Cope with Your Cancer_

That was what did it. That was what caused Joe’s tears to finally fall. As if the check in the mail hadn’t been enough, here was yet another reminder that Barry had been solely focused on helping everyone else cope with his illness rather than worrying about himself. The entire time, Joe had been under the impression that Barry had been constantly trying to _ignore_ his cancer, to pretend like it didn’t exist, but if he had learned anything over these past couple days, it had been that Barry had far from ignored it. He had actually given it a great deal of thought. Those thoughts, however, clearly hadn’t been for himself.

They had been for his family.

Joe couldn’t stand to think about any of it right now, so he quickly wiped his face and continued emptying the drawer. He came across a small, black notepad and held it in his hands, staring at it curiously. Barry used to carry it around with him to all his crime scenes, always scribbling down notes in it. Joe opened it more out of curiosity than anything else, and his eyes scanned through Barry’s chicken scratch writing inside.

Most of it was just notes about the different scenes he had gone to, observations and speculations about the incidents. There were some science formulas that didn’t make a lick of sense to Joe, and there were different notes meant to serve as reminders to look certain things up later and follow up on different pieces of evidence. Overall, most of it was boring work stuff.

However, dispersed throughout the theorems and observations, there were other little notes Barry had made. Many of them had “NTS” written next to them, which Joe assumed meant “note to self.” He looked through some of the earlier ones written in the notepad, ones from Barry’s first few days on the job.

_NTS: Don’t eat at crime scenes._

Joe chuckled to himself as he read it. One of Barry’s first few days on the job, he had nearly gotten sick at a crime scene because he had eaten a granola bar right before walking onto the scene. He found it somewhat amusing that Barry had actually taken the time to write a reminder for himself not to do it again. Then again, Barry wrote _everything_ down. It was just the CSI part of him, and it was part of what made him such a _good_ CSI. He always remembered every detail later if you asked him about it.

_NTS: Officer Dilloshaw never wears gloves. Take extra fingerprint samples._

_NTS: Officer Liddell expects reports within 24 hr_

_NTS: Joe prefers scenes taped off with extra five feet perimeter_

_~~NTS: Detective Holloway wants concise reports. Not too many details.~~ _

_NTS: Detective Holloway now complaining of not enough details._

The more Joe read, the more he realized just how determined Barry had always been to please everyone on the force, himself included. Barry had learned and memorized all the little quirks and preferences of each and every detective, and he had done his best to humor all of them. All Barry had ever wanted was to be on good terms with all of his coworkers, and it made Joe sad and maybe even a little angry now to think that some of them hadn’t always treated Barry with the most respect.

Joe knew it was irrational to hold it against them, though. It’s not like they had been trying to be cruel, and how were they supposed to know that within a few years of working at the CCPD, Barry would get cancer and die? How was anyone to predict that?

Joe sighed and tucked the notepad into the box with the rest of Barry’s things. He was just going through the remaining items in the drawer when suddenly someone walked into the lab.

“Excuse me,” the man said seriously, “Have you seen CSI Belfort?”

Joe quickly wiped his eyes and looked up at the man, whom he didn’t recognize.

“He stepped out for a bit,” Joe answered quietly, standing up from where he had been kneeling next to the drawer, “He’ll be back soon.”

“I was told I could find him in Barry’s lab,” the man said in irritation.

Joe had to swallow back the lump in his throat. Barry died a month and a half ago, and he had been gone from the precinct for much longer when he was going through treatment, yet they _still_ called it Barry’s lab, even now. It seemed that Joe wasn’t the only one having a hard time moving on.

“Well, when he comes back, tell him Director Albert is looking for him,” the man said irritably.

“Oh,” Joe said, his eyes widening in understanding, “You’re…you’re the new CSI director.”

The younger man stepped closer to him then, holding out his hand.

“Julian Albert,” he introduced himself, “I was a CSI in Coast City before getting this position.”

Joe nodded and took his hand to shake it.

“Joe West,” he said quietly, “I used to be a detective here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Albert said politely.

“So…” Joe said, not sure what to say to the man, “How are you liking the department?”

“It’s alright,” Albert said with a shrug, “Everyone around here is quite melancholy over the loss of their last CSI. Barry Allen. I never met him, but I’ve seen his work, and it’s genius. Looks like I’ve got some big shoes to fill. But you must have known him, right? If you were a detective here and all.”

Joe nodded and did his best to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, I knew him,” he said quietly.

“Must have been one hell of a CSI,” Albert went on, “I can tell everyone around here really misses him. I feel like they don’t care for me much because they think I’m replacing him or something. It wasn’t until I got here that I realized that my position…”

“Was supposed to be Barry’s,” Joe finished quietly, “Yeah.”

Joe sighed then.

“I don’t think it’s the CSI that people miss, though,” he said, “I’d like to think it’s the person. Barry practically grew up here, and most people here knew him ever since he was a kid.”

Albert nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, I should really try to hunt down Belfort,” he said after a moment, “I’m running a bit of a tight schedule. It was nice meeting you, Detective West. I hope to see you here again soon.”

Joe nodded.

“We’ll see,” he said quietly as the new director was leaving.

Joe didn’t know how to feel about it. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat bitter. Barry dies and the position is filled by somebody else just like that. Really, what else was the captain supposed to do, though? Leave the position open indefinitely? At least Singh had had the decency to wait until Barry was actually dead before giving away his promotion. Joe was grateful for that. Singh could have filled the position ages ago, but he waited until now to do it, out of respect for Barry. Joe couldn’t really ask for more.

Joe often wondered if he should have told Barry about the promotion. Barry will now never know that Singh had picked him for the job, that he had been the best and that Singh had chosen him of all people. At the same time, knowing what could have been probably would have just been more painful for him. Joe didn’t want to sadden Barry with the information, but at the same time, Barry probably would have been touched to know that Singh had picked him. It was too late to tell him now, though. He couldn’t tell Barry now that he had been the best, that he had earned it. He couldn’t ever tell Barry how proud he was of him.

He tried not to think about how happy Barry would have been, how things would have been if Barry had never gotten sick. Barry would have been so excited to be promoted. Joe could picture it now. Barry running to tell him that Singh had given him the director position. The two of them going out to eat with Iris to celebrate.

Joe found himself thinking that way all the time. Thinking about what things would have been like if Barry hadn’t ever been diagnosed. What he would say if he were still here. Where their lives would be at. Would he and Iris have eventually gotten together? Would they have gotten married? Had children? Joe would never know now. That was all just a happy dream now.

A happy dream that would never come true.

* * *

Cisco rubbed his eyes tiredly as he worked on his software project. Maybe he should switch to something else soon. He had been working on building a new set of vibing goggles. That project had been keeping him busy enough. He didn’t want to work on it, though. He didn’t want to think about being Vibe. What was the point? He didn’t want to become a vigilante like Barry. It would feel too much like he was replacing him.

Barry wouldn’t want him to hold himself back, though. He would tell Cisco to do what he felt he needed to do. He would want the city to be protected. Barry would never pressure Cisco into becoming Vibe if that wasn’t what he wanted, but he wouldn’t want him to _not_ be Vibe just because he had died.

Cisco sighed and rubbed his eyes. Why was he thinking about this? He should be focusing on another project, on building some kind of tech or something.

Anything but Barry.

He didn’t want to work on any more projects, though. His mind was exhausted, and they weren’t doing much to distract him anymore anyways. Instead, Cisco decided to start cleaning out his workspace. It was spring, after all. Maybe some spring cleaning was exactly what he needed.

A fresh start.

The first cabinet Cisco opened, though, immediately caused his stomach to twist into a knot. It was full of board games. Cisco picked up one of the games, a more complex version of battleship he had created to boost Barry’s memory.

_Not today, Cisco. I’m just too tired._

Cisco’s stomach churned as he returned the game to the shelf.

He missed him.

He missed Barry so much it hurt. It was easier not to think about his best friend, but not thinking about him only made him miss him more. Caitlin had been urging him to talk about his feelings, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even _think_ about them. Cisco didn’t want to talk about Barry. He wanted to talk _to_ Barry. He wanted to see him again, hear his voice again, even once. But he couldn’t.

Barry was gone. Cisco could never see him again.

But he could still talk to him.

“I’m going out for a little while,” Cisco muttered to Caitlin as he passed through the cortex, pulling on his coat.

“Where are you going?” she asked curiously.

“Just grabbing some lunch,” he lied, “I’ll be back soon.”

Before Caitlin could further question him or see through his lie, Cisco walked out of the lab. He knew she would understand, but she would also want to go with him if he told her where he was really going. Cisco didn’t want that, though. He needed to go alone.

Cisco felt his heart clench when he looked down at Barry’s grave.

_Barry Allen_

_Beloved son and friend._

Cisco shakily wiped a few wet leaves off the gravestone before stooping down.

“Hey, man,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The ground was wet, and water was soaking into the knees of his jeans as he knelt there, but Cisco didn’t care.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, “I…I don’t know where you are now. I don’t know what to say.”

His eyes watered as he stared at Barry’s name, etched into the stone.

“I can’t even say your name,” he choked, “I know it’s stupid, but I can’t. I can’t say _anything_ because I don’t know _what_ to say. It’s ridiculous. I _always_ know what to say.”

Cisco took a deep breath and stared at the now blurry words on the gravestone.

“I hope you’re okay, Barry,” he said past the lump in his throat, “I hope you’re up there drinking pina coladas with your mom.”

Cisco let out a small humorless laugh.

“Is that stupid?” he asked, “Is that a stupid thing to say?”

Cisco looked down at the flowers that were laying at the foot of the grave. They were starting to wilt, but they were still beautiful. Barry deserved to be surrounded by beauty after all the ugliness he went through.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here to visit you,” Cisco whispered, “I hope you’re not mad at me, not that you’re even capable of holding a grudge. You’re not very good at being mad at people, dude.”

Cisco let out a small laugh, but it sounded more like a sob.

“I just…I want you to know that I understand,” Cisco choked then, “I understand why you made the decision you did. We _all_ do, and none of us blame you for it. We all miss you terribly, but we’re not mad at you for leaving us. You…you didn’t _want_ to leave. We know that.”

A real sob escaped Cisco’s throat then, and the tears finally spilled over.

“I just really miss you, Barry,” he sobbed, “I want to talk to you. I wish you could talk back. This whole one-sided conversation thing isn’t enough. I just...”

“Cisco,” a deep voice said from behind him.

Cisco spun around and quickly wiped his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Joe said sadly, “I…I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I was just…”

Joe held up the flowers he was holding in his hand.

“It’s okay,” Cisco said quickly, standing up from the ground and wiping his eyes, “I was just going to leave anyways. I…I don’t know what to say to him.”

Joe nodded sadly.

“He _is_ listening, Cisco,” Joe whispered, “Barry is still here. He didn’t really leave us.”

Cisco nodded and wiped his eyes.

“I haven’t been thinking about him,” he admitted guiltily, “I’ve been trying not to think about him.”

Joe nodded, tears filling his eyes.

“It’s hard,” he said softly, “I know.”

Cisco let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ve been trying not to be sad,” he told him, “Barry wouldn’t want us to be sad.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Joe agreed, “But he would understand, Cisco. It’s okay to be sad, to let yourself feel his loss.”

“I don’t want to feel it,” Cisco whispered, a lump in his throat, “I…It doesn’t feel real. It’s been two months, and it still doesn’t feel real.”

Joe nodded sadly.

“I know what you mean,” he whispered.

Cisco shook his head, fighting back the sob that was threatening to escape him.

“We had so much time,” he choked, “We had so much time to mentally prepare. I wasn’t ready, though. I…I thought he was going to be okay. When he first got diagnosed…I thought there was no way we would _actually_ lose him. He’s _Barry_. He couldn’t _die_. He…”

Joe shook his head. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the younger man, pulling him into a tight hug.

“No amount of time would have been enough to prepare for this,” he said softly into Cisco’s ear, “No one was ready for it.”

As Joe enveloped him in the hug, Cisco tried to push down his feelings. He struggled to find that numb feeling again, to block out the feeling of loss. It didn’t go away this time, though. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make himself numb anymore.

He lost the fight as soon as the first tear escaped his eye. Once the tears started, they couldn’t be stopped, and soon, Cisco was sobbing. He sobbed uncontrollably into Joe’s shoulder as Joe held him. As he cried, Cisco thought of the last words Barry had said to him before he died.

_I have been and always will be your friend._

* * *

“Thank you, everyone, for meeting here,” Iris said softly, once they were all gathered in the cortex.

Everyone nodded silently, somber expressions on their faces. They were all there, even Henry, whom no one had seen in the last few weeks. It was the first time they were all together in one place since Barry’s funeral.

“Are you sure about this, Iris?” Caitlin asked sadly, “Is this what Barry would have wanted?”

Iris let out a heavy sigh and shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, “But it’s what he deserves. He deserves to be recognized, to be _honored_ for everything he’s done.”

They all silently nodded their agreement.

“And the city,” Iris continued, her voice cracking, “The city deserves to know the truth.”

“When will it be published?” Henry asked quietly.

Iris looked down at the paper in her hands, her eyes blurring as she stared down at the words.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered, “My editor wants to run it as soon as possible.”

They all nodded silently.

“Everyone will know then,” Joe sighed, “They’ll know who he was, what he did.”

“Good,” Henry said firmly, “Barry deserves at least that much. He deserves to be remembered as more than just some CSI who got sick.”

Joe nodded, a lump forming in his throat.

“Barry wouldn’t want to be remembered for how he died,” he agreed, “He would want to be remembered for how he had _lived_.”

They all nodded their agreement, sad smiles occupying their faces. It was decided then.

The next morning, Iris’s article was published for the world to see.

* * *

The Final Fate of the Flash

_If you live in Central City, then you know the Flash. You may have even been lucky enough to see the brief sparkle of gold light trailing behind him as he raced past you. Many have noticed that light’s absence in our city over the last several dark months, leaving many only able to speculate about our beloved hero’s whereabouts. I’m here to finally put an end to the speculation and shed some light on our Scarlet Speedster’s absence._

_Five months ago, citizens will recall our hero being involved in an intense battle with a mysterious black-clad speedster. Many feared that he had been killed during the fight, but to the city’s immense relief, our Scarlet Speedster was back out on the streets saving lives again within a few weeks following the battle. Within a month, however, our beloved Flash seemed to disappear yet again, leaving many to question what had happened to him. It is my deepest heartfelt regret to bring the news that although the Flash seemed to have fully recovered from the fight initially, there were complications later on that compromised his health._

_The details of his malady are unimportant. What_ is _important is that the city is informed of the tragic fate of our hero. It does no one more pain than me to inform all of Central City that our hero succumbed to his illness last Friday, May 17 th. He passed away at 8:27 pm at the STAR Labs facility where he was being treated for his condition._

_As previously stated, if you live in Central City, then you know the Flash. You know that over the past year, he has risked his life countless times to keep our city safe. What people don’t know, however, is his name. They don’t know who the man was beneath the mask. Underneath that mask was a person, a man with a life and a job and a family._

_That man’s name was Barry Allen._

_For the past year, Barry has selflessly risked his life to keep our city safe, and to not give him the credit and recognition that he deserves for his deeds would be a shameful failure on my part. Barry deserves to be recognized as the hero that he was, both as the Flash and as Barry Allen. The decision to release Barry’s identity was not taken lightly by me or the rest of Barry’s friends and family. Our only request is that we are given space and privacy during our time of grieving. While the rest of the city grieves the loss of the Flash, we will be grieving the loss of Barry, and we only hope to mourn his loss in peace._

_Just as the Flash will always remain in the hearts of the citizens of Central City, Barry will forever remain in mine. To me, the Flash was more than just a hero or a symbol. He was my best friend in the entire world, and I feel immensely grateful for every single day that I had with Barry while he was here._

_We all will never forget the Flash and what he meant to this city, but I will never forget the man behind the mask, Barry Allen, and what he meant to me._

* * *

**_finis_ **

* * *

**Important: Crashing Update**

**I need everyone’s opinion on something. I finished Crashing over a year ago, but something has been bothering me. I often go back and edit stories, even after they’re finished. Even when completed, I’m always trying to make them better. Last year, I tried to edit Crashing, but I just couldn’t. The thing is, Crashing was my first real fanfic and I was completely new to writing when I wrote it. I used to be very proud of the story—and that’s still partly true—but I also cringe when I read it. Unlike my other stories, it needs more than just a little editing. It needs to be _scrapped_. The characterization is way off, the medicine is flawed, the plot is generic, there’s zero character development, and the beginning is _way_ too long. Seriously, they don’t even find out he has cancer until chapter eight!**

**There are so many things I would do differently if I could rewrite the whole thing.**

**So I did.**

**Just for my own eyes, I rewrote Crashing, and it turned out SO much better. I cut down the super long beginning, I fixed the character dynamics, I made Barry less of an ass, and I included so many scenes I wanted to include but didn’t for fear of crossing lines.**

**I didn’t really mean to do it. I just rewrote it for fun and my own peace of mind, but now I have the first ten chapters of a much better version just sitting on my computer—like many other stories I’ve never posted—and I just want to get a feel for how it would be received, were I to post it.**

**I didn’t want to post it because I thought it would frustrate readers, knowing I have other stories people are waiting for updates on, but the thing is, I’ve already written half of it. It seems a waste to just leave it on my computer at this point. The story would be similar, but I changed a LOT in the beginning. Not everyone finds out Barry is sick right away, which allows for there to be an individual reaction scene for each character. Barry also takes on a much more directive role in his own treatment and doesn’t just play the part of the sick patient who needs saving. The outcome of the story will be the same—I’ll admit that now—but how they reach the ending will be very different.**

**So, I guess I just wanted to see what you guys think first, test the waters to see if there’s even an interest in a rewritten version, since I have so much of it done already. Is this something you guys would be interested in? Trust me, it won’t hurt my feelings if you’re not. There are quite a few sick Barry fics on this site already, and I understand if you’d rather I spend my time on something else.**

**Please be honest!**

**Kayla**

* * *

**PS: To my German readers, I have a personal request that doesn’t relate to Fanfiction. I have a German document in my possession that I recently obtained. It was written in the 1700s, and it’s important to me that I have it translated. I believe it’s a death certificate of one of my ancestors, Everard de Copons, but I can’t know for sure. Google Translate hasn’t been of much help to me, seeing as it was written over 300 years ago and the spellings are different. If someone can help me translate it, it would really help me in my genealogy research. If I can verify this document, it would link my family to a bloodline that I’ve traced back over 1,000 years. It’s the missing piece I’ve been looking for for over eight years. If you can help me, please respond in the comments. I can also share my email address if that's easier.**

**Thanks!**

 

**(Just the left page)**

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